


The Best Joke in the World

by FromTheMountains



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AO3 FB 5000, Camping, Fluff, Gen, Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 00:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheMountains/pseuds/FromTheMountains
Summary: You already know what this is about, but you can't help wondering how the BBC characters might fit into this classic piece of humor.





	The Best Joke in the World

221B Baker Street  
Living Room

 

“Camping,” stated John from his chair “Just so I have this right, you're going... camping?” 

“Yes,” said Sherlock without pausing his packing in the middle of the living room.

“It's December 1st, it's freezing outside, why on earth are you going camping?!” asked John “Why not go in summer, when there's less chance of catching hypothermia?”

“Because, there's less chance of catching hypothermia,” said Sherlock glancing up at John.

“Don't tell me,” said John with a groan “I know that look. That's the 'the only way to test this is on myself' look.”

“There is some data I need to collect on the early stages of hypothermia and it's effect on the human thought process,” explained Sherlock “It's not the type of data I can get from someone else, even if they were willing to risk coming down with a slight case of hypothermia. I will have hot tea in a thermos, a propane stove for making dinner, and plenty of cold weather gear. If something goes wrong, emergency services are not far from the location. I am being exceedingly careful John, stop worrying, I'll be fine.” He zipped the bag shut.

“Yes, you will be, because I'm coming with you,” said John, leveraging himself up and heading up to his room to grab his things. Hypothermia...of all the insane things to test on yourself... he grumbled as he packed, making sure to add his medical kit. At least it hadn't been cold enough to snow yet.

Sherlock took them up north to the private land holding of someone he knew. It was almost 20 acres and there were plenty of choices for their tent. Sherlock chose a place on top of a small rise where they were sure to catch plenty of bone chilling wind. Setting down his pack, Sherlock opened it and pulled a heavy looking roll of green canvas out. He untied it and rolled it out to reveal a 2 man army bivvy tent.

“Wow,” said John, who naturally knew something about army tents. “Where did you find _that_?”

“Surplus,” answered Sherlock.

“I think it's older than I am.”

The tent was a simple design. The canvas was rectangular and came with 2 poles and 8 pegs. Three pegs went on each side of the tent, and the last two went on the front and back. From these end pegs a line ran up to the pole that held up the front and rear of the tent. There was no cross pole down the spine of the tent, the canvas simply rested on the two end poles, sagging slightly in the middle. It took them a couple of tries to get it up, but they finally managed it, and it seemed, if not solidly built, at least sturdy enough for one night.

Fortunately the sleeping bags were significantly newer and rated for four seasons. Sherlock had even remembered to pack two camping pads.

“So, what's the plan from here?” asked John once they had finished setting up camp.

“The wind should change later this evening and with that I should be able to produce the necessary circumstances to gather the data I need. Afterwards we'll cook some dinner, which should help warm me up, and then retire for the night.” said Sherlock.

They sat for a while outside the tent, talking periodically, and watching the sun slip below the horizon. Sherlock in a thin shirt, his thick Bellstaff coat lying next to him on the ground. It hadn't been dark for very long, when Sherlock began to shiver slightly. He pulled out a thermometer and took his temperature, then checked the time on his mobile. Satisfied with whatever he found, John watched as he put both away and settled down to wait, now trembling visibly.

John eyed him sharply as the shivering continued to increase and his skin became pale. A thin breeze blew steadily across the campsite, causing Sherlock's hair to lift frequently and a noticeable drop in temperature. Deep in his mind palace, Sherlock's eyes stared blankly ahead, his chin rested gently on his hands which were pressed together in an effort to control the shivering. Time passed and the shivering began to ease. Sherlock slipped a thermometer from his jacket pocket into his mouth. When it beeped, he pulled it out and looked at it, then checked the time on his mobile. 

“T-ea pleasth,” his voice was thick and the words slurred together. He gestured clumsily to the thermos lying next to John and began to pull his coat back on. John immediately poured him a cup. He watched, unable to keep the concern out of his gaze, while Sherlock hunched over in his coat and began sipping the tea quickly to get some warmth back into his body. 

Convinced he wasn't about to fall over or pass out, John went to start the campfire. He hadn't counted on the wind. No matter how he tried to wrap his body around the kindling, the breeze whipped the small flame away as fast as he could make it. Not wanting to waste time while Sherlock was still recovering he abandoned the stubborn pile of wood and set up the small propane stove instead. It didn't offer as much radiant heat, but at least it would cook faster. Within minutes he had a small pot of boiling water ready for the dehydrated packets of 'Beef Sheperd's Pie'. He poured the water into the packets as Sherlock sat sipping a second cup of tea. This one he had managed to pour for himself. John was pleased to see that his skin was rapidly regaining it's usual color. 

When the food was done “cooking”, John passed Sherlock his portion and watched while he ate the first few bites. Convinced that he had full muscle control at last, John settled back to enjoy his dinner.

“How are you feeling?” asked John, back in medical mode once that they had finished.

“Not bad,” said Sherlock, he tilted his head slightly as he considered. “A bit more fatigued than I expected, but fine otherwise. I believe there is some dessert where the dinner pouches were.” He motioned to his pack lying next to John. John rustled around inside and found some cookies, fudge, trail mix, and 4 more dehydrated dinners. 

“Got enough here to stay two nights,” he remarked as he pulled out the fudge, taking a piece and offering it to Sherlock. 

“Suppose we could,” contemplated Sherlock as he took a piece. “Jim won't mind, and it's nice to get out from the city now and again. There's some hiking trails to the west we could explore tomorrow.”

“Never took you for the...uh, wild camping type,” grinned John. He was going to have to ask Sherlock later where he got the fudge, it practically melted in his mouth and was so rich he felt he could probably live on it if he had to. Of course, the chilly weather and being outdoors for extended periods tended to improve the appetite. He chuckled, suddenly remembering the decidedly not tasty rations he had eaten while in Afghanistan. If those had tasted bad with an improved appetite, he didn't want to think about what they tasted like under normal circumstances.

“What?” asked Sherlock frowning at him slightly. It wasn't like John to say something like that and then laugh at him.

“Oh, I was just remembering how awful our field rations were.” He took another bite of fudge. “I should have packed fudge instead.”

“Ah,” said Sherlock suddenly understanding “Well, I'm sure Mrs Hudson will be pleased to hear that.”

“This is homemade?”

“Yep,” a small grin played on Sherlock's face as he started to pack away the, now cool, propane stove.

“Well, if you ever feel the need to poison me again, please use the fudge,” quipped John reclining back on his elbows “At least I will succumb happily.”

“Noted,” said Sherlock more seriously than John expected, as he went past and ducked into the tent with both of their packs.

“That was a joke Sherlock,” said John sitting up “Sherlock?”

But Sherlock didn't answer, he was busy putting the packs away in the tent and unrolling the camping pads. Damn, now he had to be wary of the fudge. Shaking his head ruefully he turned over and went into the tent to set up his sleeping bag.

One thing that hadn't changed from the old army tents to the new, was the floor space. There was just enough room for each person to sleep lying straight, but not much else. John's previous tent mate had snored and he was relieved to learn that Sherlock didn't. He was slightly envious with how fast he managed to fall asleep though. It had always taken him the better part of half an hour to manage it, even when he was tired.

The breeze was still sliding along and, despite them being secured, occasionally forced it's way under the flaps of the tent. It was even colder now as it brushed past his face, and John was glad there was no precipitation in the forecast. He was pretty sure it would end up as snow if there was. The sleeping bag had warmed up delightfully however, and the coziness was finally having a drowsy effect on him. His eyelids grew blissfully heavy and slid shut as he sank into a dreamless sleep.

The next thing John knew, he was being prodded firmly in the shoulder.

“Mfrph..what?” he asked, still with his eyes closed. 

“John,” said Sherlock quietly. “Look.”

John opened his eyes and came fully awake as he saw a dazzling carpet of stars that were so tightly packed, a purplish hazy light all but obscured the black of the night sky. Scattered throughout were larger individual stars and planets, they stood out brightly with breathtaking brilliance. Stretching across it from the SSE to the NNW was a foggy white cloud of even more densely packed stars and stellar gasses, the Milky Way.  
  
“Wow,” breathed John. It was so bright he briefly wondered if there was enough light to read by.

“What does it tell you?” asked Sherlock in a quiet almost contemplative voice.

_Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it._

John distinctly remembered that surprising statement about the beauty of the stars over London. Compared to _this_ though.... obviously there was more. What else would Sherlock appreciate about the stars? He enjoyed science immensely, perhaps that was the direction of the conversation.

“Well, that there are billions and billions of suns. If even a fraction of those have planets, then that's billions of planets as well.” John let his gaze drift across the heavens. “Even accounting for the variables in the Drake equation it would not be unreasonable to suppose that there are other intelligent lifeforms out there, and even those that might posses technology capable, theoretically at least, of communicating with us.”

“Mm,” said Sherlock, in what sounded like agreement. “Anything else?”

“Judging by the position of Orion around SSW, I would estimate that it's after midnight, probably around 2am,” said John. If Sherlock wanted a tour de force of his astronomy knowledge he was happy to oblige. “Given the direction of the wind and the clear sky, the odds are good that it will be a nice, though probably chilly, day tomorrow.”

“Yes, we'll want to bundle up if we go hiking,” agreed Sherlock, his voice sounding oddly strangled.

“Are you okay?” asked John shifting to look at him and quickly racking his brain to see if he could remember and kind of post-hypothermia asthma-like conditions.  
  
“No, I'm fine,” said Sherlock, his voice was normal now, but his face muscles worked oddly.

“You're sure?” 

“Yes.”

Whatever had been there was gone now, and John rolled back over to stare up at the glittering sky again. He lay there for a moment enjoying the view, but his relaxed feeling was disturbed by an odd sense of anticipation. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but as the only other person there was Sherlock, it had to be coming from him. He glanced over. Sherlock was still lying right where he left him, but there was a tightness about the way he lay that wasn't normal. 

John didn't know what was going on, but Sherlock was clearly keen to say something. The only question was, why hadn't he said it already? He must be waiting for him to ask...yes, that was it. John hadn't given him a turn to talk about the stars. He quickly corrected the lapse. 

“What about you?” asked John, looking back up at the stars. “What does all of this tell you?” 

“It tells me,” said Sherlock “that our tent blew away.”

John froze.  
  
Of course.

“You arse!” he cried, suddenly laughing “You set me up.”

Sherlock laughed out loud and then went “Oof!” as John reached over and whomped him good naturedly on the chest.

“You were just **waiting** to see if I would notice,” he laughed ruefully.

“You did eventually.”

The grin in Sherlock's voice told him he wasn't going to live this one down for a _long_ time.

“So all of my brilliant conversation and the things I was able to see after you woke me up in the middle of the night?” he asked grinning “None of that mattered?”

“It was impressive, but as always it's the observation of the details that's important,” said Sherlock feigning a professor-like voice for added amusement. 

“I suppose I'll have to write this one up on the blog,” said John “It's too good to pass up. I wonder how many hits it'll get?”

“Oh, I would say at least 5,000.” said Sherlock.

“Great.”

“In the first 24 hours anyway,” continued Sherlock “after that, who knows?”

“Brilliant,” said John shaking his head, but with a ghost of a grin.

They lay there for another couple minutes, John mentally kicking himself for having missed the obvious, when Sherlock said. “I suppose we need to go find the tent.”

“Yeah, waking up to frostbite isn't my idea of a fun camping trip,” agreed John and started to climb out of his bag.

“Let's take the gear with us,” he added, as they quickly rolled up their bags “no point in coming all the way back here if the tent isn't going to stay put. Think you can figure out where it went?” He asked as he hoisted up his pack.

Sherlock hoisted his own pack onto his shoulders and gazed across the darkened landscape.

“Yes, I think so. For now though, we'll follow the wind.”

They set off together under the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 5K challenge for the AO3 facebook group. Gentle Brit-picks are welcome, but no promises that I will get to them. My writing time is very limited, so not much is able to be spent on editing. Cheers! :)


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